


Cockney Rhyming Slang

by allyndra



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Basement of Doom, M/M, mid-season 4, set in a world where Anya didn't return after graduation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-07
Updated: 2006-02-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyndra/pseuds/allyndra
Summary: Your usual basement fic, involving growing friendship, mockery, and eventual getting together.





	1. Bored Stiff

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on the internet between November 2006 and February 2007, added on AO3 in September 2018.
> 
> Each chapter is inspired by a Chas n Dave song, and I am unapologetic about that. :) (I was an Air Force brat, and somehow Chas & Dave was the ONE thing my family took away from our time stationed in the UK decades ago.)

_It's all a waste of time_  
_I got nuffin' to do and I'm_  
_Bored stiff_  
_Bored bored bored bored bored bored_  
_Bored stiff_

"What the hell are you doing?!" The angry voice surprised Spike, and he barely managed to suppress a start. He looked up guiltily from the shirt he'd been shredding to tiny bits. Ruthlessly, Spike tamped down on the guilt that sprang up at the sight of a pair of accusing eyes. He assumed a sneer.

"I'm helping you lot of do-gooders, ain't I? Well, this," he gestured toward the scraps of fabric, "is just me doing my part to protect the world from your fashion sense." When he put it that way, Spike felt entirely justified. It had been a hideous shirt.

"Ha ha ha. Very funny. I liked that shirt," Xander pouted. He tugged the remnants of the garment from Spike's grasp and gazed at them mournfully.

"Well, that's half the fun, innit? I am evil, after all." Spike resented having to point that out so often. He'd tried to kill these people often enough, you'd think they would remember the evilness.

"Evil," the boy snorted. "This is more like ... petty annoyingness. You're like a puppy, you know that, Spike? Are you going to start chewing on my shoes next?" Xander glared at him, and Spike had to force back the urge to smile at how _cute_ the fierce glare looked on that young face.

"Not likely," Spike replied. "Have you smelled those things? A Complornt demon wouldn't chew on your shoes."

"So sorry to offend your senses," Xander said insincerely. He pulled off the pizza-scented shirt he'd been wearing and tugged on an ancient bowling shirt. Spike wondered if he had purposely picked such a horribly ugly one, just to taunt him. Sighing and rubbing a tired hand over his neck, Xander said, "Why don't you go do something, Spike?"

"It's no fun anymore," Spike said sullenly. "All the troublemakers are either locked up by the soldier boys or ganged up with Adam. There's nothing good to kill out there." He was tempted to let his lower lip jut out, but a memory of Dru popped into his head. She used to sing, "A li'l mouse is going to nibble that right off." And then she would nip at his lip, and Spike would have to stop pouting to kiss her. They usually wound up shagging against a wall. Somehow, Spike doubted Xander would bite his lip if he stuck it out. The depressing sense of loss that memory dredged up did nothing for the vampire's mood.

"Okay," the boy flopped down at the end of the couch, letting his head roll to the side so he could look at Spike with a minimum of effort. "Go to Willy's. Drink whiskey, play poker, reminisce with the other evil beings."

"I can't go to Willy's. Some of the blokes down there are a little put out with me on account of me killing their friends."

"Some people are so touchy," Xander said. His face was straight, except for his dancing brown eyes.

"I know! Ain't like I killed all of 'em, anyway." Spike's hands twitched. He really needed something to do, or he was liable to grab another shirt and start shredding. He eyed the turquoise and brown one Xander was wearing. Shredding it would be a service to sighted beings everywhere.

"So go to the Bronze or the movies. You know, do something non-demony." Xander's tone was becoming exasperated.

"I don't want to go to a place full of humans, feel them around me, hear their heartbeats, and not be able to feed. That's not fun; that's torture." Spike looked at the other end of the couch, expecting to see a moue of disgust at the desire to feed or a smirk at the thought of Spike being tortured by his chip. Instead, a small smile played over the boy's mouth, and his eyes shone bright with amusement.

"What?" Spike demanded.

"You sound like one of the Mrs. Pigglewiggle stories Willow used to read to me. 'The Waddle-I-Doers.'"

Spike tried to project an air of affronted dignity, but he had trouble keeping the chuckle inside him. After a moment, he gave in. "Used to have some of those books. Drusilla made me read them to her dolls." Spike was surprised to find anything in common with Xander.

"Well," Xander said, lifting his head from the back of the sofa, "I don't have any treasure for you to dig for. You wanna play a game?"

Spike really didn't. But he'd already been compared to badly behaved fictional children, so he agreed with as much grace as he could muster. "Yeah, alright."

Xander hoisted himself off the couch with a groan. Spike couldn't help thinking he was exaggerating. Delivering pizzas couldn't be that wearing on a body. When he said as much, he got a dirty look. "I spent most of my day restocking the walk-in cooler and cleaning the back of the store. That means heavy lifting and no tips," the boy complained as he rooted around in the closet. He emerged with a dusty box. "Here we go. It's perfect."

"Cluedo?" Spike had never played the game, but he'd seen it before.

Xander gave him a confused look. "It's just Clue. Cluedo sounds like Clue for karate guys." He knelt on the floor and started taking the pieces out of the box. "Come on," he said, looking up at Spike expectantly. 

Spike sighed and sprawled on the floor next to the board. "Right. Tell me how this works, then." Xander showed him all the tiny little weapons and explained the rules of the game. Spike tried to maintain his ennui, but the game turned out to be fairly amusing. It got better when they tossed the rules out the window and started making up their own murder scenarios. Xander told him about a game he, Red, and another boy used to play in junior high, where each player had to think up the most creative way to kill someone using only the objects in the room around them. The vampire and the young man lay on the floor late into the night, figuring out some truly bizarre ways to end someone's life with the contents of the basement.

Xander eventually dozed off, his head on a purloined couch cushion and one arm lying across the game board. Spike watched him quietly, listening to the slowing heartbeat. He never would have believed he could have so much fun in the boy's company. The vampire rose silently and looked in the closet where Xander had gotten the game. The top shelf was loaded with old game boxes. He thought maybe they would try out Boggle or Life next time. His gaze trailed down, ending up on the clothes that filled the rest of the closet. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the slumbering boy, then reached for a green striped shirt.

Games were all well and good, but shredding those shirts was a moral imperative.


	2. Rabbit

_'Coz you won't stop talkin'.  
Why don't you give it a rest?,  
You got more rabbit than Sainsburys,  
it's time you got it off your chest.  
Now you was just the kinda girl to break my heart in two,  
I knew right off when i first clapped my eyes on you,  
but how was I to know you'd bend my earholes too?  
With your incessant talking,  
you're becoming a pest._

"And then he was like, 'Hey, little girl. Are you sure you should be out without your daddy?' Really cheesy and smarmy, like a Tuna Melt Supreme. And Buffy just smiled at him. You know that innocent, helpless smile that she does sometimes? So she was doing that smile, and he moseyed up closer, thinking he was going to get somewhere with her. As if! Have you seen the guys Buffy dates? Of course you have. Angel was an obnoxious freak, but he was really buff. And Riley is totally hot, in an Everybody's All-American kinda way. So this guy should have known he didn't have a chance. I mean, I never had a chance, and I'm not a _total_ goober ..."

Spike tried to tune Xander's monologue out. The boy had drunk three espressos at the coffee shop where he had just started working, and the caffeine had gone straight to his mouth. He'd been talking since the moment he'd come down the stairs. Spike had tried interrupting him and insulting him, but nothing seemed to penetrate that wall of noise. The vampire sat down on the couch and pressed his hands over his ears. No good. It dulled the sound a bit, but it didn't keep it out. He tried singing instead, but fragments of speech kept drifting through, filling in all the pauses in his song.

It was almost hypnotic, the way the boy could talk this long without stopping for breath. Spike had seen Willow perform some prodigious feats of babble in the past, but they didn't come close to what Xander was doing now. Spike peeked out the window and saw that the sun had set. Finally! He grabbed his duster and started up the basement stairs. Unfortunately, the source of the gabble followed right behind.

"Where are we going? 'Cause I don't have much money right now since I haven't had a paycheck yet, and I started in the middle of a pay period, so I have to wait another two weeks until they pay me. If you want to go to the movies, maybe we can sneak in. I bet you're good at sneaking in. You have that whole creepy thing going for you. Not that I think you're a creep, although there have been times when you really were, but you _can_ creep. I don't really know how you manage it in those boots, but it would be great if you could teach me some time."

Xander was going to wear out his mouth. He was going to be reduced to complete silence for the rest of his life, and Spike would be there to gloat. The vampire stalked through the twilight, trying to think of some way to cut off the never ending flow of words pouring out of the boy's mouth. It had been amusing at first, especially since his verbal filters had been short circuited by the coffee. Speech poured out of Xander's mouth without checking in with his brain about whether or not he _really_ wanted to say these things. The amusement had been worn away under the flood of prattle.

Spike had had enough. He vamped out and spun around, hoping to scare the boy into silence. "You look so weird like that. Hey, I bet you've never even seen it, what with the no reflection thing and all. That sucks. I would hate to never see my face again, and you're way better looking than I am. You must miss your face, huh?" Spike slipped out of game face, slumping his shoulders in defeat. There had to be a way of shutting Xander up. Maybe he could get the Watcher to cast a silencing spell on him. The vampire figured the older man would refuse at first, but if he was trapped with the boy for more than a few minutes, he was sure to cave.

He started walking toward the Watcher's apartment, then stopped with a curse. He'd just remembered Rupes was out of town. Xander stood at Spike's side as the blond vampire tried to think of another course of action.

"And then Cordelia said Willow didn't know what she was talking about, so Willow got out this big, old encyclopedia her parents got her for her birthday and ..." Spike grabbed Xander by both arms and pressed him back against the wall of the nearest building. He didn't actually have a plan, but that didn't bother him. Spike was more of an improviser anyway. He stared into the boy's face and opened his mouth to threaten horrible death to the Babylon 5 plates if he didn't either belt up or leave.

Instead, he found himself leaning forward and silencing Xander with a kiss. If he had thought about it beforehand, Spike would have expected Xander to either freeze in surprise or push him away in disgust. Instead, the young man's mouth segued smoothly from actively talking to actively snogging. Spike heartily approved the change.

Xander was warm and vibrant, and he apparently approached kissing with the same enthusiasm he put into Star Trek and snack cakes. In other words, he poured himself into it, heart and soul. And, in this case, tongue. He wrapped his arms around Spike's waist and kissed him back fiercely. The way the boy took to it almost made Spike forget whose idea it had been in the first place. Almost, but not quite. Not enough to give up control of the kiss.

Spike cradled Xander's head in his hands, winding his fingers through his dark hair. This allowed him to control the angle and pressure of the kiss, and he took advantage of it. Tilting Xander's head, Spike plunged his tongue into that hot mouth, submerging himself in the feel of it, the taste of it. Xander responded by dragging Spike's body even closer. They were pressed together so close that Spike could feel Xander's heartbeat thudding through them both.

Spike pulled back and stared into Xander's soft brown eyes, still hearing the boy's heartbeat thundering in his ears. It was so loud, it took a moment for Spike to realize what he wasn't hearing. Xander wasn't saying a word. He was watching Spike silently, eyes dark with passion. Spike smirked. The ability to render Xander Harris speechless was a power to be proud of. Newly confident, Spike swaggered back to the basement, a quiet, slightly breathless Xander trailing behind.


	3. Poor Old Mr. Woogie

_Everyone's on about boogie on the radio.  
Boogie's pretty big down at the disco.  
Boogie boogie boogie everywhere.  
Not a mention of woogie and I don't think it's fair._

A body dropped onto the stool next to Spike and set a soda on the table, but the vampire didn't look up. He was occupied. It was incredibly difficult to eat Buffalo wings in public without looking like a total wanker; Spike was exerting himself. He thought he was managing it rather well.

"And here we find the European vampire at rest. Note the almost delicate precision he uses in devouring his prey. Those chicken wings didn't stand a chance." Xander had pitched his voice to a hush and adopted a truly dreadful British accent. He sounded _nothing_ like Richard Attenborough. Spike rolled his eyes in annoyance when he looked up and saw Xander's pose. The boy had put his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hands so he could gaze at Spike with false fascination. At least, Spike thought it was false. He'd caught the boy watching him out of the corner of his eye more than once lately. Maybe Xander's present expression of open curiosity was more than sarcasm.

Spike set down the wing he'd been eating and schooled his face into a sneer of disinterest. "If you're so bloody bored, why don't you grab a bint and dance with her? Leave me in peace."

Xander made a face. "That is so not gonna happen."

"Why not?" Spike asked. He scanned the club. "There must be some girls with no taste here tonight."

"Oh! I have been pierced by your rapier wit," Xander cried, holding a hand to his heart melodramatically and lurching back on his stool. He miscalculated and almost lurched right off. Spike watched with amusement as the he tried to right himself nonchalantly. Once he was seated firmly once again, Xander glared at the snickering vampire. "For your information, I could get a girl to dance if I wanted. I just can't really dance. I mostly just do it when I can hide behind Buffy and Willow."

Spike let his accent slip closer to the one he had owned as a young human. "Every savage can dance," he said condescendingly.

"I guess I'm just too civilized, then. I only have two dancing styles: 'uncoordinated freak' and 'strip tease.' And God, please tell me I did not just say that out loud."

"Sorry, mate. I'm afraid you did," Spike said in a gleeful voice. "And now you've got me all hot and bothered to see the Droopy Boy strip tease." The vampire bounced a bit on his seat. He anticipated months of harassment and blackmail from this. "Come on, then."

"Hello! I am so not taking my clothes off in the middle of the Bronze," Xander protested. He looked positively scandalized. Spike considered the mindset of the Scoobies; they could take destruction and mayhem in stride, yet be appalled at the thought of a little public nudity. As far as Spike was concerned, public nudity was just as much fun as public drunkenness and public violence. Put all three together, and you had a good night.

"What's wrong? Got something under those rags to be ashamed of?" Spike knew full well he didn't. Even a prude would have had trouble keeping his eyes to himself in the close quarters they'd been sharing. And Spike was certainly not a prude.

Xander crossed his arms over his chest. "No!"

"Could just dance, you know. Don't have to take your clothes off," Spike said. He curled his tongue behind his top teeth and ran his eyes up Xander's body. "Although anything'd be an improvement over the kit you got on."

"I'm not looking for fashion tips from the Peroxide Avenger," Xander said scornfully. "You probably don't look any better than I do on the dance floor, anyway."

"Reckon you could take me, then?" Spike asked with narrowed eyes. Xander raised his chin stubbornly for a moment, glaring back at him. Then, in a blink, the boy's face changed. Over the last few weeks, Spike had come to know this look. The small, delighted smile and dancing eyes always betrayed Xander's delight when something struck him as absurd. "What?" Spike demanded.

"You wanna challenge me to a dance off, Spike? That's so West Side Story of you."

He tried. Spike really tried to keep his face impassive. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips twitched. Bollocks! "Idiot!" He reached out and shoved at Xander's shoulder, toppling the human right off his stool. The boy glared up at him from the floor before climbing to his feet and making a show of dusting himself off. "Sorry," Spike said unapologetically. "But since you're up, you might as well dance now, aye?"

Xander looked around the club, then back at Spike. To Spike's surprise, he shrugged and said, "What the hell. But I'm warning you now: People laugh at me and I'm spiking your blood with holy water." 

Spike sat up straight. He hadn't thought Xander would actually agree. He'd just been planning to pester him mercilessly. Still, he wasn't about to look a dancing fool in the mouth. He just raised an eyebrow and settled in to watch.

The current song was ending as Xander stepped out on the floor, so he waited for a new one to start. The band was good tonight, harder and louder than the weepy bilge Spike had suffered through other nights. The next song kicked off with a rumble of bass and drums, and Xander nodded his approval and closed his eyes. Than he danced. Spike could see why he had called it 'strip tease.' The boy moved liquidly, his hips and shoulders rolling to the beat of the music. His hands wandered over his body, sliding over his stomach and thighs, plucking at his clothes like he was just waiting to pull them off.

Spike never knew he had it in him. 

The vampire wasn't the only one watching. He noticed a few young men glaring at Xander when their birds paid too much attention to his act. Xander was oblivious, dancing with his eyes closed and his head back. Both hands were buried in his hair, pulling his head back in simulated passion. To Spike, the way that move bared his long, smooth neck was at least as erotic as the way his hips were thrusting up at the air. 

When the song ended, Xander opened his eyes and grinned. He ran his hands through his hair to settle it and walked back to the table. Gulping from his soda, he said, "There. I have once again publicly humiliated myself for the pleasure of others. Happy?"

"I dunno, mate. Maybe you should stick to 'uncoordinated freak' next time. Seems more ... you, somehow."

"Yeah, you're gonna want to work on your insults," Xander said. "I got more of an ouch from Barbara Genoa's teasing in third grade." Finishing off his drink, Xander waved the empty cup at him in a salute. "I'm taking off. Some of us actually work for a living. Later." Spike watched him go, knowing he wouldn't be following right away.

There was no way he could walk with his trousers this tight.


	4. Snooker Loopy

_Snooker loopy, nuts are we,  
me and him and them and me.  
We'll show you what we can do  
with a load of balls and a snooker cue._

_Pot the reds, then screw back  
for the yellow, green, brown, blue, pink and black.  
Snooker loopy, nuts are we.  
We're all snooker loopy._

 

It had been a slow night, but not a total waste. Spike kept a sharp lookout for fresh marks. He was just racking the balls for another game when he heard the half-expected voice behind him.

"I found you," Xander said, sounding a bit smug. Spike hid his smile and turned to sneer at him disdainfully.

"Right detective, then, ain't you? Regular Sherlock Holmes."

Spike had practiced that sneer and that tone often enough that the target of either should at least look insulted. Xander barreled on as though Spike had never spoken.

"Whatchya doing?" he asked, leaning against the pool table. Spike raised an eyebrow and ostentatiously looked around at the table, balls, and cue.

"Obvious, innit? I'm teaching wombats to juggle," he said. Dru had actually tried that once, but it hadn't been much of a success. When they hadn't learnt fast enough, she'd drained the poor little blighters, and Spike had had to console her about their deaths. He'd spent days badgering her to pick the fur out of her teeth. His Drusilla had never been boring. Nor sane, neither, but never boring.

Xander grinned at him. "Nice wombat you got there. Oooh, hang on while I get a drink." Spike sighed and picked up his cue, twirling it and watching the boy's progress through the crowd. The plain, dark shirt Xander was wearing tonight fit him well, and it gave Spike a little glow of pride to see it. Through determined effort, he'd managed to cull the more egregious offenses against fashion from Xander's wardrobe. The effect was a man Spike was almost not ashamed to be seen in public with. 

"So," Xander said, returning with drink in hand, "Why'd you decide to embark on this little pool playing expedition instead of coming on patrol tonight?"

Spike opened his mouth to make a cutting remark about the Slayerettes' need for his help, but he stopped himself when he saw two young men walking up to the pool tables. He eyed them over Xander's shoulder, trying to gauge their skill and level of drunkenness by appearance alone. They'd do. He shifted his grip on his cue, as though he didn't quite know how to hold it, and he let his posture slide into an awkward stance with the slightest bit of a slump.

He opened his eyes wide and innocent and said, "I thought I'd come find a snooker hall, but this is the closest I could find. I reckon I understand the rules now, though." Xander gave him a baffled stare, but the blokes behind him looked interested, especially when he added. "Up for a bit of flutter on a game?" and held out a twenty dollar note.

"We'll play you," one of the men said, stepping closer. "If you wanna team up, we can double the bet," he added with a derisive look at Xander. Spike bristled a bit at that. _He_ was the one who was supposed to mock Xander.

"You're on," Spike said.

"Are you insane, Spike?" Xander hissed.

"Why? You can't be that bad, mate."

Xander rolled his eyes skyward, as though asking advice from above. Spike could have told him that it rarely came. "Okay, fine. Whatever," Xander said, putting his drink on a table.

The other team broke. Spike watched them closely for the first few minutes, but when it became clear that they were as mediocre as he'd hoped, he let his attention slip over to his companion. Xander was biting his lip and hanging onto his pool cue. Spike smirked at the notion that occurred to him. He still owed the boy for that show at the Bronze last week. Spike leaned close and spoke into his ear, grinning when the human jumped. "Hold my stick for me, Harris," he said, handing over his cue. When Xander was looking at him, he stripped off his duster and draped it over a chair. He returned to the table to take his first shot, leaning over and wiggling his arse in Xander's direction. If the game was going to be an easy win, he might as well put on a good show.

Spike thought his performance was inspired. He should have been on stage, really. He managed to lose the first game while making it look like he was legitimately trying to win. Xander cooperated beautifully, praising Spike when he landed easy shots, as though that was an improvement. They handed over forty dollars with a minimum of grumbling and asked the other blokes for a chance to win it back. The idiots not only agreed, they volunteered to raise the bet unprompted.

Of course, Spike and Xander won the second game handily. Spike played at the top of his game, and Xander wasn't half bad, either. It all went so well, in fact, that Spike wasn't at all surprised when their opponents got belligerent when it came time to pay up. Of course something had to go wrong. He tried shifting to gameface, thinking that'd scare them into paying their debt, but that only prompted them to start swinging. Spike took a good few hits before he went down, but he didn't even try to return them. He wasn't dealing with the pain of the chip _and_ the pain of a beating.

He wasn't terribly surprised by the attack, but he was surprised when Xander pulled him out of the way of a fist and handed him a pool cue. "Break this for me?" the human asked. Spike shrugged and snapped the wooden pole, keeping the sharp edges carefully away from his chest. Xander flashed him a grin. "Thanks." Then the boy turned to their two opponents and started fighting back, using the thick half of the cue like a club. He wasn't a very good fighter, but neither were they, and Xander had a weapon. After a few coshes each, he had them down on the floor. He stood over them, breathing hard, then looked at Spike. "Wanna get out of here?" he asked.

"In a minute," Spike replied. He leaned over and dragged out the blokes' wallets. "I was only gonna take the eighty you owed," he told their unconscious forms. "But now I'm taking it all." And he did. He gave them a mocking salute. "Ta," he said. Then he grabbed his coat and looked at Xander expectantly. "Coming?"

They pushed their way out through the crowd that had been gathering near their table during the fight. They were almost to the door when someone shouted for them to wait. They didn't even look back, just started running. Spike held himself back to Xander's speed, but it didn't take them long to get away. After several blocks, Spike slowed to a walk and fished out his cigarettes.

"You didn't think," Xander panted, "that ripping off humans was maybe not the safest way to make money?"

Spike took a drag from his cigarette. "Where's the fun in safe?" he asked. He fingered the cash in his pocket and raised a speculative eyebrow. "Wanna try it at another bar?"

"I was right before. You are completely insane," Xander said.

Spike smirked at him. "That didn't sound like a 'no.'"

Xander started laughing, still a little breathless from the run. "Damn. I guess I'm crazy, too. Lead on Vampire Boy."

Spike led.


	5. What a Miserable Saturday Night

_My mates have gone and left me, gone off to a gig.  
I'm down on my luck, but they don't give a fig.  
I'm stuck at home here, sick as a pig.  
What a miserable Saturday night._

It was ten o'clock on a Saturday, so Spike had expected to have the basement to himself. Mum and Dad Harris were playing at Punch and Judy in the living room, and the vampire was thrilled that he never had to deal with them personally. Didn't know how Xander had done it so long without going mad. Well, madder. He opened the door to the basement and froze. The lights were on. Spike stopped at the top of the stairs, holding his shopping and listening to the sounds coming from the basement. Put upon sigh, squeak of the sofa springs, familiar heartbeat - it was definitely the boy. What the hell was he doing, in at this hour? With a shrug, Spike clattered down the stairs, certain that all he'd have to do to find out was let Xander yammer at him for a few minutes. He aimed a casual nod in Xander's direction and turned to set his bag down on the counter. 

"Hi, Spike," Xander said. Spike waited for the questions to follow, waited for the tales about his day at work and his evening with the Slayer and her crew, but they never started. Spike looked at him questioningly.

"Felt like a night in tonight?" he asked.

Xander snorted. "Yeah, that sounds likely. I was just hankering after a night of smelling the mildew and enjoying the vicarious battles over who forgot to pay the phone bill." He cast a bitter look at the ceiling.

Spike waited for more, but Xander had subsided into a quiet sulk. Spike shook his head. Of course the one time he was curious, the boy would decide not to talk. "Why are you here, then?" he asked slowly.

Instead of answering, Xander grabbed hold of the left leg of his jeans and hoisted his ankle into view. It was swathed in bandages. "Behold the incredible, breakable Xander," he said. "Able to sprain small but important joints with a single bound." He lowered his leg carefully. "Not that I was bounding," he added.

Spike refused to ask what had happened. He opened the cupboard and started pulling down glasses and mugs. He snuck a glance at Xander, but the human was glaring at his ankle and clearly not preparing to tell Spike how he'd hurt himself. Fine. Spike didn't care anyway. He opened the shopping bag and began rooting through it.

"Whatchya got?" Xander asked, craning his neck to see what Spike was doing. For a brief moment, the vampire was tempted to refuse to tell him out of spite. Then Xander said, "It's not a human head, is it? 'Cause I don't want that messing up my food, and it won't fit in the vegetable crisper." It was such an absurd thing to say that Spike almost grinned.

"It's not a head," he replied. "Not this time anyway." He held up some of his shopping: little bag of limes, a tiny flask of vanilla extract, and a bottle of Tabasco sauce. "Getting tired of pig's blood. It tastes like shite. Thought I'd try to spice it up some." He really wanted to chuck the whole lot of it and get human, but he couldn't afford the upgrade. Not that he was going to admit that.

Xander looked interested. "Bring it over here," he said, gesturing at the coffee table. "I'm not bad at mixing drinks. I'll play mad scientist, and you can tell me how it tastes."

Spike thought the idea of a Slayerette mixing blood cocktails for a vampire was hilarious, but he hid his amusement and ferried the glasses, his bag of shopping, and a tub of blood over to the table. Xander approached the experiment seriously, examining the ingredients Spike had brought and asking him questions about his favourite flavours. His eyebrows drew down when he concentrated, and he caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth whenever he measured anything. It made him look young and earnest.

"I tripped over a power cord at work," Xander said suddenly, staring at the pale stream of hazelnut syrup he was pouring into a small glass of blood. Spike blinked at him. "I just tripped and fell, and poof! Sprained ankle. It was no big deal. They just put me on light duty for a while. Hell, they were glad I wasn't going to try and file workman's comp." He added a drizzle of chocolate syrup. Spike hadn't had to buy that; the boy stockpiled the stuff. "But then I went by Giles' to see what was up, and everybody acted like I was about to fall apart. Sent me home to 'rest.'" His mouth twisted wryly.

"Can't see that you'd be much help, hopping along on patrol," Spike said. "Can't play bait if you can't get out of the way." Xander flushed and looked away, and Spike suddenly felt guilty. Then he felt a surge of irritation. Mocking Xander was one of his chief entertainments. He was going to be very put out if he lost the pleasure just because he felt sorry for the boy. He covered his confusion by picking up the glass and sipping at the sweet concoction. He tasted it thoughtfully. It needed a shot of alcohol, but it wasn't bad.

Xander sighed. "I know I couldn't patrol, and I know they were just worried about me. I just ... it sucks to be the one who always has to be worried about, you know?" Spike didn't know. He couldn't think of a time since he'd been turned when others had urged caution lest he get hurt and actually meant it. Though Angelus had been a right git about giving him warnings with a smirk to let Spike know just how much his grandsire really wanted him to get hurt.

Spike didn't want to think about that, and it looked like Xander wasn't enjoying it much, either. Spike drained his glass and said, "Well, no use crying over spilt milk and all that." He waggled the empty cup at Xander. "Let's try a spicy one, eh? You get good enough at this, you could work part time at Willy's."

"Like that's gonna happen," Xander said. But there was a smile on his face when he said it, and he reached for the blood willingly. Spike turned on the telly while Xander poured. They sat together on the sofa, trying out different flavour combinations - though Xander adamantly refused to taste them - and watching a marathon of some dreadful science fiction show. Xander claimed to enjoy it, though even he occasionally groaned at the special effects or a particularly bad plot device.

"That's so lame!" Xander exclaimed, gesturing at the screen. He put on a high-pitched voice and mimicked, "'Oh, I was evolved into an amphibian at the time, so it doesn't matter that I mated with you and bore your children. Back to business as usual!'"

Spike shook his head with a sigh. "If I had a shilling for every time I heard that," he said sadly. Xander started to smile, then froze, peering uncertainly at Spike's woebegone expression. The vampire let his eyes go large and mournful. "It's always the spawn that get hurt by it," he said. Xander gaped at him until Spike couldn't bear it anymore. He burst out laughing, nearly falling off the sofa. "You should have seen the look on your face," he gasped out. Xander stared at him, then smacked him on the shoulder.

"Jerk!" Xander accused. Spike hid his face in his hands and muffled his laughter. He peeked out, and Xander was laughing, too. His face was bright, and his eyes crinkled happily, all thoughts of his fragile status wiped away.

When he finally got himself back under control, Spike sprawled back against the cushions. "You are the most gullible sot I've ever known," he said. He felt good. He couldn't think of the last time he'd just laughed like that. Certainly not since the chip, possibly not since Prague.

"Hey, I grew up on the Hellmouth!" Xander protested. "Anything is possible." He sank back next to Spike, propping his foot up on the coffee table amongst the dirty glasses and flavouring ingredients.

"S'pose anything is possible," Spike agreed. And in that spirit, he leaned over and kissed Xander. It wasn't like the first time, which had been fueled at least half by exasperation. This was ... comfortable. A warm, yielding mouth under his, a thumb stroking his cheekbone, a giggle as Xander pulled away.

"Not a fan of the Tabasco," the boy said, smiling. He lay his head on Spike's shoulder, and they watched bad science fiction for the rest of the night.


	6. Massage Parlour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately following the previous chapter, "What a Miserable Saturday Night"

_Oh, my darlin', roll me over.  
Roll me over, lay me down and do it again.  
I'm in clover.  
So keep a doin' what you're doin', it drives me round the bend._

The credits were rolling from the final episode of the marathon when Xander spoke. "Are we friends?" Xander asked, suddenly lifting his head off Spike's shoulder.

"Course not," Spike denied automatically. "Can't be friends with do-gooding humans, now can I?"

"So the hanging out and talking and kissing makes us what?" the boy persisted.

Spike squirmed uncomfortably. "Cordial enemies?" he suggested. It sounded weak even to him.

"Uh huh," Xander said skeptically. "You snuggle with your enemies?"

"I wasn't snuggling!" Spike protested. Xander wriggled against him, emphasizing all the places their bodies were still touching. Bugger! He'd been snuggling on the sofa with a white hat. He pulled away a few inches, enough so that he was on his own cushion. "Not snuggling," he repeated firmly.

Xander blinked at him. "There's nothing wrong with being friends," he said seriously. "What are you afraid of?" His eyes were very dark.

"We're not friends," he said. "And I'm not afraid of anything." He was William the Bloody, after all. He wasn't afraid of a damned thing. He pressed his body against Xander, far closer than he'd been before. "How 'bout you? Afraid of me, mate?" he asked in a whisper, sliding his hands up to press Xander's shoulders tight back against the sofa. Xander licked his lips and shook his head. "You should be," Spike said. But Xander really wasn't, and that's why Spike had to kiss him.

Spike hadn't realized he'd memorized their previous kisses so carefully, but he found himself counting all the ways this one was different. This kiss was not about control, and it wasn't about comfort. It was fiercer, more passionate. This was a kiss of definition. Spike knew he was right; they weren't friends. But he couldn't deny that they weren't enemies, either. Whatever they were, it was this. It was fire and laughter, lust and familiarity. It was a hot, wet mouth opening to the prodding of his cool tongue and large, strong hands clinging to his back.

Spike pulled away long enough to tug Xander shirt off. He ran his hands over Xander's chest, thinking perhaps he'd stopped his campaign of shirt destruction too soon. Maybe he ought to carry on until the boy had no shirts left at all. He licked his way down the column of Xander's throat and nibbled along his collarbone. Xander arched into his caresses with a groan. Rough fingers slid under Spike's shirts, skimming his sides until Spike jerked away.

"Tickling just isn't cricket," he chided. Xander grinned up at him, flushed and panting and entirely too pleased with himself.

"Maybe you should be afraid of _me_ ," the boy said. He yanked Spike's shirt up and off, staring at his bare skin. There was a kind of wonder in his eyes that made the vampire's cock twitch. Xander placed one sun-darkened hand on Spike's pale chest and said, "God, that's hot!" He ran his thumb over a pink nipple, circling it until it peaked. He ducked his head and captured it in his mouth, teasing the nub with tongue and teeth. Spike slid his hands into Xander's dark hair, urging him on. He bit down, and Spike nearly purred in approval. Spike tightened his hands and tugged. Xander glared at him.

"Hair pulling definitely spoils the moment, Spike," he said.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Just wanted you to stop for a minute. This isn't exactly the best place for this," he explained, gesturing at the sofa. "Hop up and let me pull out the bed."

"Hop being the operative word," Xander snarked, climbing up to stand on one foot. Spike threw the cushions to the floor and made short work of turning the sofa into a bed. Once it was fully extended, Xander dropped onto it heavily. "Happy now?" he asked.

Spike leered at him. "Not yet," he replied. He stalked toward Xander, enjoying the way the boy's heart rate sped up. He pushed Xander down to the mattress and stood beside the bed. Xander gazed up at him, all dark eyes and panting lips, as Spike toed off his boots. He popped open the buttons on his jeans and shimmied out of them. There was that awed look again, and Spike almost shuddered under the weight of it. He climbed onto the bed and trailed wet, open mouthed kisses down Xander's chest and stomach. He slid his fingers along the waistband of Xander's jeans, making the boy shiver.

"I thought you said tickling was against the rules," Xander said. His voice came out huskier than usual.

"I've never been one for following the rules," Spike countered. His hands glided over smooth skin to open Xander's button, then slowly, teasingly pull down his zipper. He palmed the boy's cock through his boxers, earning a sharp gasp.

"Oh yeah," Xander breathed, "You're a rebel."

Spike grinned and tugged the jeans and boxers off, easing them carefully over Xander's hurt ankle. He crawled smoothly back up Xander's body, supporting his weight on his hands and knees so that his body barely brushed against Xander's. The boy groaned and pressed up against him, trying to get close enough for the pressure to do more than tease.

"You are a bad, bad man," Xander accused, glaring at the vampire hovering over him.

"I've been telling you that," Spike replied, rocking his hips so his cock dragged up the length of Xander's. "For years"

"I know," Xander said quietly. "You keep making me forget." He twined his arms around Spike's neck and pulled him down. Spike fell into the kiss, letting Xander make him forget, too.

They tangled together, bodies fitting in a way that made all their differences seem like complements. Xander was just enough taller than Spike that their cocks didn't line up exactly when they kissed. Instead, Spike thrust down against Xander's hip, rubbing his sensitive head along the hollow that could have been made especially for that purpose. Xander thrust back, his erection stroking against Spike's balls and the base of his cock. Xander's heart beat loud and fast, setting a rhythm Spike was glad to follow. Xander's hands molded to Spike's arse, silently conveying his urgency.

Xander's body arched under him, and Spike felt the boy's slippery, pulsing release. He groaned into Xander's mouth and drove himself harder against that warm, pliant body. Even though he'd already come, Xander continued to cling to him, encouraging Spike with his mouth and hands. It didn't take much more encouragement. A wave of pleasure surged through him, growing until it crashed over him, sweeping Spike along with it.

He found himself sprawled on top of Xander, cradled between the boy's thighs, taking deep breaths he didn't need. Xander's fingers were combing idly through Spike's hair, drawing invisible patterns against his scalp. When Xander spoke, Spike felt his voice as much as heard it.

"Are we friends, Spike?" he asked, his voice rough.

Spike hauled himself up, resting his weight on his forearms and looking at Xander. His hair was mussed and his lips were swollen. Spike thought it was the best he'd ever looked. He traced a finger along Xander's jaw and down his neck.

"Not friends," he said. He settled himself back on Xander's chest. "We're something else, pet."

"Yeah, I guess we are." He couldn't see the smile, but he heard it.


	7. Wish I Could Write a Love Song

_I've tried to write a love song  
that shows the way I feel.  
But perhaps I just aint' got it.  
Perhaps I never will._

It probably violated the precepts of every known religion for a demon to experience something this close to heaven. Fortunately, Spike had never been terribly religious. He spread his hands wide across Xander's back, sliding them down so his fingers could span the narrowest part of his waist. He thrust into the slick heat of Xander's body, groaning as it tightened around him. Xander drew a shaky breath and Spike petted his skin soothingly, wanting to draw this out.

Spike let his hands curve around Xander's hips and pulled them more tightly back toward his own, sinking his cock deeper inside. He moved, long slow strokes, languorously plunging in and out. Xander mumbled incoherently into his pillow and shoved back encouragingly. Spike decided that maybe it was time to give over slow and steady. He sped up, his hands clenching on Xander's hips. His world narrowed down to the boy in front of him, under him, around him. Xander made that whimpering noise that always drove Spike wild, and he growled and thrust harder. The orgasm ripped through him, pouring up from his toes and straight out his cock. He was still shuddering his release when Xander reared up against him and fisted his own erection. It was only moments before Spike felt Xander quaking around him, coming into his hand. They slumped together onto the bed.

Xander was still boneless and panting when he asked, "Hey, Spike. Are we friends yet?" Spike knew it was coming, and he managed not to tense. It was the same question every night, whether they'd been fucking or fighting. It had started out teasing, almost an inside joke. By now it was a chore for Xander to ask, his voice tight with the anticipation of disappointment. It reminded Spike of the Beast asking Beauty to marry him every night at dinner, and felt a wash of unwonted sympathy for Beauty. The irony of being cast as the innocent heroine to Xander's Beast did not escape him. 

Spike never knew what the right answer was. He knew they'd passed friendship right by, but he couldn't explain it properly. In the past few weeks, he'd denied friendship vehemently, passed it off with jokes, recited apt quotations, and sarcastically sworn to be Xander's bosom bow. Tonight, he purred, "You do this with your friends?" into Xander's ear. He pumped his still half-hard cock in and out of Xander's body one more time to emphasize his words.

The boy shivered and twitched his ear away from Spike's mouth. " _My_ friends lack the basic equipment for this particular activity," he said, pulling away. His light tone didn't disguise the hurt underneath his words. He climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom to clean off. Spike got dressed, listening to Xander splashing in the other room. He pulled his shirt on quickly, but donned his jeans with more care. The feel of rough denim against his delicate bits right after sex was almost enough to make Spike consider underwear. He was tying his boots when Xander crawled back into bed, curling up on his side facing away from Spike. Spike leaned down and pressed a kiss to Xander's bare shoulder.

"I'll be back before dawn," he said. His voice was brusque, but his kiss was gentle.

He was nearly out the door when he heard Xander's soft, "Be careful." He felt a sliver of tension leave him at the warning. Not enough though. Spike needed to hurt something.

It wasn't until after he'd beaten two demons and mugged three humans that Spike felt calm again. He didn't know what Xander wanted from him. They got along well. Sure they tossed insults about, but Xander knew he was just taking the piss when he said those things. They played video games and pool, patrolled with Buffy, watched a little telly. Shagged like weasels. It was all fine, right up until that question. What was he meant to say?

Spike hadn't thought Xander would be a mystery to him. He'd spent so long with Drusilla, he had expected a sane, male human to be simple to understand. Now he would nearly welcome a bout of mad singing and visions. At least he always knew what Dru wanted after one of her fits. Of course, it was the same thing she always wanted, someone to play with and then eat. Or vice versa.

Well, Spike had tried playing off the question often enough, and it was just getting him an unhappy Xander. It was time for drastic measures.

Though most of the town had the sense to lock up at night, Spike found a chemist still open and spent some of his hard earned cash. It was difficult to stalk through the town menacingly with plastic bag swinging from one hand, but he made an effort. His next stop was the public library. It wasn't open, but Spike had little difficulty breaking in and liberating a few books.

When he snuck out of the darkened building, he was burdened with a stack of books as well as his purchases. Spike crept down the basement stairs silently, stepping around obstacles like abandoned shoes and laundry baskets. He was rather chuffed that he hadn't tripped over anything when Xander said, "Are you going to dance around over there, or are you coming to bed?"

Spike froze. "Didn't think you were awake," he said as casually as he could manage.

Xander switched on the lamp. "Surprise! It's the brand new model of Insomia Xander. You get the take home version." He blinked at Spike as his eyes adjusted to the light. "Whatchya got?"

Spike almost tried to hide his swag behind his back, but he resisted. Mostly because it would just make him look like a naughty five year old. He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could with an armload of books. "Just picked up a few things," he said. He took a breath which was physically unnecessary but emotionally completely needed. "For you."

Xander stared. "For me?" He held out a hand. "Gimme," he demanded. Spike stepped slowly toward him and handed him the bag. He dropped the books to the bed beside him.

Spike couldn't stand there and watch, so he went to the fridge and got out some blood. He was pouring it into a mug when Xander said, "You got me Ben-Gay?" in an incredulous voice.

Spike closed his eyes. "For when you get all sore after work." He put the blood in the microwave, listening to the rustling sounds from the bed.

"Laundry detergent?"

"Said that new kind your mum bought made you itch, didn't you?" Spike watched the seconds count down on the microwave.

"O-okay. Why a new razor?" Xander asked. His voice was losing its edge, but it was still uncomprehending.

"You cut yourself shaving the other morning. I could smell it," Spike replied. The microwave dinged and he pulled out his mug. He didn't look over at the bed, but he said, "The rest of that's just sweets and what not," as though it didn't matter whether Xander liked them or not.

"These are great." Xander said softly. "You got all my favorites."

Spike took a gulp of hot blood. "Wouldn't want to get things you don't like," he explained. He steeled himself and turned to look at Xander. The boy was watching him with glowing eyes from his nest of sheets and pillows.

He held out a hand for Spike to join him. "What about the books?" he asked. Spike drained his mug in a long swallow and left it on the table. He crossed the room, sinking hesitantly to the bed.

"They're ... I don't know what to say to you," Spike admitted. "You ask and ask, and I can't get it right. Thought about writing a bloody poem, but I didn't think I could go that route again." Beside him, Xander picked up one of the books and started leafing through it.

"Poetry?"

"Better than mine. I thought, maybe ..."

"Read it to me?" Xander asked. His eyes were huge and trusting. He gave the volume to Spike and lay back on the bed. 

Spike flipped the pages until he found one that brought Xander to mind. "I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing," he read. Xander listened raptly as Spike read poem after poem. It was nearly morning when he stopped. He licked his lips and waited for Xander's reaction.

"I'll stop asking now. I guess I just haven't been listening very well," Xander said. He had shifted around to lean against Spike as the vampire read, and he was tracing patterns on Spike's leg. He lay his head on Spike's lap. "You're not my friend either," he said.

Spike heard, "I love you, too."


End file.
